


Ghost of a Chance

by RADifer



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Amnesia, Ghost Powers, Ghost!Lance, Honerva is a bookshop owner, James is an annoying little shit, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Melenor is a Barista, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Witch Honerva, ghost au, ghost!keith, we love him tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2019-11-09 00:10:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17991167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RADifer/pseuds/RADifer
Summary: What happens after you die?For Keith and Lance, you wander around with the living, unable to communicate as you are on another plane of existence, with your memories wiped. Only by regaining their lost memories will they be able to move on. However, things that lurk in the shadows may be keeping them from their own paradise.





	1. This is a Ghost Story

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! Have a Ghost AU XD
> 
> There will be a bigger story behind this plot bunny, but I needed to get my feet wet with the characters first. I'll be adding more tags to come as I figure things out. Hope you all enjoy!!

“Hey, world! It’s me, ya boy, James Griffin-”

 

_ Ugh, not this again.  _

 

“-and me and the crew are here to explore the haunted apartments of University Drive. Legend has it-”

 

_ Legend. Wow. Rude. We aren’t that old.  _

 

“-that these apartments house the spirits from before the Great University Fire a hundred years ago!”

 

_ Yes… cause they wore hoodies and ripped jeans a hundred years ago…  _

 

“People have reported hearing moans and crying babies, so, we are gonna check this out for ourselves!”

 

Keith snorted at this. Yeah, sure, he knew Lance was a whiner, but a crying baby? Why didn’t he think of it first?

 

He had been enjoying a good book, not a physical one mind you, because, if it was, the young urban explorers would be freaking out already.  Though, maybe it would have been better. It would have given him some more peace and quiet. Keith cursed himself for choosing a dead book over the dusty ones in the abandoned shelves. He let out a sigh and curled his knees up on the counter he was sitting on. He would just have to put up with the random college students who were standing in the middle of  _ his  _ kitchen with a cheap camera and… really? Was that a tape recorder? He knew they were college students but that thing looked like something from a thrift store. 

 

If only he were alive, then he could show them how real ghost hunters do it. 

 

Keith supposed he didn’t have much of a choice. If he did nothing, these kids would stay there for hours on end waiting for something, making noise and shining their flashlights in his eyes. He needed to scare them off. Lance was usually there to do the dirty work, though. In fact, he  _ insisted _ he do it, so Keith was often left watching from the sidelines. He wasn’t sure if he knew how to play the part. 

 

He thought for a moment before sitting up on his knees and facing the cupboards. He supposed he could play poltergeist, and hope that didn’t take up too much of his energy. 

He grabbed the handle and opened the cupboard door slowly and as quietly as he could before he slammed it shut. He watched the college kids jump and turn to face in his direction. The leader of the group, that James boy, audibly gulped.

 

“Did- did you guys hear that?” he asked, his voice shaking slightly. 

 

_ Ah, we got a poser. This’ll be easy. _

 

Keith needed to do this fast. A single move to freak them out. If he let them think about it too long, they’d rationalize his first attempt and move on to their plans. He stood on the counter and held out his hand. He ran to the other end, pulling open each door as he went. When he stopped by the wall, he sucked in a breath and pushed out a wave of cold energy that thrust the cupboard doors closed again. The intruders screamed and ran out the broken screen door they came in from. 

 

Keith slumped against the wall. How did Lance do it? The amount of energy that took was unbelievable, despite the fact that he was a ghost. He let himself nod off, still sitting on the kitchen counter. 

  
  


It was a surprise when he woke up in his bed. He sat up quickly, only to have a ray of morning sunshine glare into his eyes from the boarded window. The cotton sheet slipped off him and fell to the floor. Even dead cotton was hard to keep on an ethereal body. Keith shielded his eyes from the light, turning his head to see Lance sitting next to his bed, head in his palm and leaning against a half-burned crate. He was either asleep or pretending to be. 

 

Keith decided to test it. 

 

He nudged the sleeping ghost, and Lance fell over, waking up on impact with the floor. 

 

“What- what the hell?!” Lance spluttered. “What did you do that for, mullet?!”

 

Keith merely blinked. “Why are you here? I thought you were out.” 

 

Lance huffed and rubbed his neck. “I was. I got home a few hours ago and you were passed out on the kitchen counter. Must’ve been some party you had last night.” Lance smirked, his eyebrows doing that thing Keith hated. 

 

“Yeah, sure. Party. If by "party" you mean a bunch of kids coming into our house and trying to play  _ Ghostbusters _ , then it was  _ killer _ .” 

 

Even Keith could see the smile Lance was trying to hide. “Hey! Death puns are my thing.”

 

“Sure,” Keith said. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms and scratched his head. He felt hungover- or whatever the ghost equivalent was. Could ghosts get hungover? He’d yet to ask Lance about that yet. 

 

“But seriously, dude,” Keith felt Lance’s hand rest on his shoulder-a certain kind of cold that he didn’t think he could ever get used to, “are you okay? You were phasing, also breathing pretty hard.” Lance paused a moment before he met Keith’s eyes with a pressing stare. “You didn’t- you didn’t take on those kids by yourself did you?”

 

_ Here we go _ . Keith held back a groan with a shrug. He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, looking away from Lance. “You weren’t here, so I had to do something. I’m not helpless, you know.” 

 

“You could have left,” Lance said, still watching Keith. Keith stayed silent. He didn’t want to have this conversation. Not again. 

 

Lance sighed, “Fine. But you really need to be careful. Don’t be afraid to ask for help, man.” He stood and stretched his lanky body, cracking nonexistent bones. “I need sleep though, dude. I’ll be in my room if you need me.” Lance jumped and dived through the floor. Keith flinched as he always did. He really wished he could just get used to it all by now. 

 

Death was similar to life, but not the same, that much Keith knew. He was able to piece together he was dead quickly after the fact, even though he couldn’t remember anything before that. He figured out what being dead meant as opposed to being alive. Being dead included this weird ability to see the living world and even function with it, but at a price of energy. Lance could contact the living world without using much of his energy, yet Keith would practically lose consciousness if he held a cup too long. That he didn’t get. 

 

Somehow, Lance was more alive than Keith, and Keith just couldn’t understand how. Perhaps deep down he was jealous over it, but he would never admit it. 


	2. Stir Crazy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance finally figures out why Keith can't accept he's dead. Or he thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Here's this next chapter! I honestly am not too sure how I feel. I like it, but I'm also??? It feels sorta rushed and stiff? Maybe it's just me. 
> 
> If you all have any suggestions or critiques please let me know! I wanna make this as good as it can get, and would love y'all's help!
> 
> Enjoy! <3

Lance lay in his bed unable to sleep. It wasn’t the bed that was the problem. Oh no. The bed was wonderful. He didn’t know what the mattress was made of, considering it was purchased at the little ghost shop down the street, but it was the most comfortable thing he ever laid on, as far as he knew. The _problem_ was the restless ghost in the room above his.

 

“Keith! Go to sleep or keep it down!” he yelled up at the ceiling. “I can hear you pacing!”

 

“How can you hear me?! Our feet don’t even touch the ground!” Keith’s protest was muffled by the rotting floorboards.

 

Lance hopped up from his bed and jumped into the air. His head phased through the ceiling far enough for his disembodied head to look up at Keith, whose purple splotched hand raked through his hair.

 

Keith wasn’t paying attention. He was muttering to himself again, brooding about something or other. His favorite pastime, as Lance had discovered after meeting the boy. His complexion looked more solid, as solid as a ghost could be, and Lance took that as a good sign.

 

“Then stop loudly ghosting,” Lance said. Keith wheeled around, saw Lance’s head, and screamed. He fell back onto the floor- scratch that he fell _through_ the floor in his fright and straight into Lance’s room. Great.

 

Lance sunk back down to see Keith halfway through his floor, legs flailing. Shaking his head, Lance grabbed his ankles and yanked him back into the room. Keith hit the floor with an _oomph_ before sending him a glare.

 

“I told you not to do that!”  

 

Lance was about to make a sarcastic retort when he looked into those violet eyes of Keith’s. His cheeks and forehead were flushed red, but the anger didn’t seem to reach his gaze. The look Keith had given Lance enough pause to rub a hand over his own face before sitting on the floor, level with his frantic roommate.

 

“Keith, buddy, when are you going to accept that you’re dead?” The question came with a gust of breath, but still firm.

 

“I-” Keith coughed to give himself a second to think- “I’ve accepted it, okay? I’m just… not as used to it as you are.”

 

Lance raised an eyebrow at this. “What? What do you mean “not as used to it as I am”?”

 

Keith crossed his arms, hugging them to his chest like he’d done so many times before Lance had lost count. “You get this being dead thing. You know how it works. You’ve been around the block long enough to know how to handle it.”

 

And that’s when he laughed. It started out as a snort and a chuckle, but soon Lance was gripping his stomach and doubling over while Keith looked on with such confusion and offendedness that Lance knew he had to soothe, but he’d need a moment to catch his breath first.

 

“Keith, I’m not- I’m from the same time period as you _at least_. I doubt I’ve been dead longer than you,” he said.

 

“But you seem to know everything! You had to explain to me why no one can see us and how we float through walls- what dead materials were!” Lance didn’t know if he should be flattered or what, considering this was the closest to a compliment Keith had ever given him since they met.

 

“That’s because I get out and talk to people.” With that, it finally clicked. Lance zoned out while Keith began to protest. It was the same old argument anyway. Why go outside where there’s people? Keith was either really introverted or hated the human race, and Lance considered both options to be viable. Whatever the reason Keith gave, the boy never left the apartment. Lance would go out, explore this new side of town, meet new ghosts, and basically live death. Keith was probably going stir crazy.

 

No wonder he was really jumpy and reckless.

 

Or maybe he was always kinda sorta reckless, but staying inside and not getting any fresh air or sunlight probably didn’t help. A ghost needs energy after all, and where better to recharge than in the sun?

 

Lance stood up, not looking at Keith’s face as he reached out, grabbed his wrists, and began to pull him towards the stairway.

 

“Come on, you’re going outside.”

 

“Didn’t you hear what I said?! There’s people out there!” Keith began to struggle, but Lance just gripped tighter.

 

“Then ignore the people! They can’t see you anyway. Besides,” Lance smirked at Keith over his shoulder, “you’re looking pretty pale. You need to get some tan on those cheeks.”

 

Keith stopped struggling at that moment, all frantic feelings and thoughts forgotten and replaced by apathy. “I hate you,” was all he could say. Lance didn’t have much of a problem dragging him down the stairs and out the front door by this point.

 

The two stood on the porch in the early morning sunlight. The paperboy was making his rounds, zooming on his bike down the sidewalk, narrowly avoiding college students on their way to their 8 AM’s. A few people were walking their dogs, which stopped and stared at the two boys standing, squinting in the sun. A retriever let out a deep bark at them, causing Lance to jump and accidentally send himself floating. Other than that, no one saw them.

 

Lance recovered quickly, lounging four feet in the air with his hands behind his neck. Keith just looked around, watching the cars pass by.

 

“So, how you like the real world, Keith?” Lance asked, sparing a glance down to Keith’s mullet.

 

“It’s remarkably familiar,” noted Keith under his breath, “like nothing’s different.”

 

“It really isn’t,” agreed Lance. He flipped in the air to lay on his stomach. “Made adjusting a lot easier for me. Probably why you’ve been so anxious.”

 

Lance saw Keith kick at the ground in the corner of his eye, and his hand reach up to grab a piece of his hair. He tugged it and twisted it. Lance dropped to the ground. He opened his mouth to say something but quickly shut it again. Perhaps he should just drop the lecturing and just… move on with the tour. In the time Lance got to know Keith, he quickly learned Keith was a doer. He could understand concepts alright when told, but he needed the hands-on learning experience to actually _know_ it. Lance got that well enough, but he was a book learner himself, which sucked cause he hated reading.

 

Anyway. This boy needed a tour of the town, and Lance?

 

Lance was one hell of a tour guide.  


	3. Beanjuice (Like Beetlejuice, but Beanjuice)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's the first stop on the ghost tour? The coffee shop!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry it took so long. Things happened. I've decided to make an official day where I upload. I'll be uploading every Thursday. So, I'll see you then!!

If people would stop walking  _ through _ Keith, that’d be great. 

 

He got the hang of people seeing straight through him, but physically passing through him was still weird and made him feel violated in some sort of way. He resorted to walking partially behind Lance so he would at least get a warning before a person came barreling their way. 

Lance was taking him to some coffee shop downtown. Keith had no idea why. He hadn’t felt hungry or thirsty since he first been dead, and doubted it would be beneficial to his ethereal body. But, the excited boy insisted, so he complied with a huff. The sun had risen a bit more, and, looking at the clock tower on the judicial building they passed, it was nearing eight-thirty. Lance had obliged to walk with Keith instead of his usual floating, so it took more time to get there. But Lance didn’t seem to mind. 

Keith didn’t hate Lance perse. The guy was pretty cool and honestly very helpful. He was just annoying. Loud. Eccentric. Self-centered to a point. Critical on Keith’s appearance (which was something he couldn’t exactly help) among other things. Oh yeah, and he had this weird habit of naming every object in the house. Keith’s con list for Lance might have been longer than his pros. However, despite all this, Keith followed him to this coffee shop far away from the apartment, letting him play tour guide. Keith’s arms crossed tightly in front of his chest, uncomfortable. 

Of course, a side-effect of his inner tirade against Lance was not knowing when the other had stopped moving, so he rammed right into his side. 

“Hey! What’d you stop for-- oh. Is this it?” Keith looked up at the front of the small store. The shop shared a building with many other establishments, but it’s section stood out. The front was painted blue with green fringing; a couple of flower pots hung from the overhang. There were even two café tables with matching chairs sitting on the sidewalk. On the window were the words “Leone d'Italia” written in fancy block letters.

Lance moved to stand in front of the door. “Do me a favor, will you, Keith? The signs are in the way, and I can’t see inside. Look through the window and tell me when someone’s walking up to the door.”

Keith sidestepped in front of the large window. He squinted through the glare of the sun. He could barely see inside, but he could make out a human-shaped shadow pay at the counter. As his eyes adjusted, he found himself staring at the coffee bar, intrigued by the sheer variety of product, almost missing that the man heading towards the door. 

“There’s one now.”

“Watch this.” Lance looked over to Keith with a twinkle in his eye and knocked on the door three times. Not a second later the man exited the building and walked straight through Lance. Keith shivered at the sight. 

“Why did I have to watch that?” he asked. 

Lance rolled his eyes. “Not that. This.” He leaned over, grabbed Keith’s arm, and dragged him to the threshold of the shop-- or what Keith thought was the shop. 

Through the door was a garden. A small garden with a cobbled path leading to a pond with a decorative fountain inside, circling it, and branching off into a few different directions, passed a few large hedges. Before the garden path, however, was a small outdoor bar to the left and a few tables spread out to the right, all under a wood awning. Lattice walls lined most of the outdoor bar, save for the one facing the garden. 

Keith stood in awe of the sight before him, and Lance just walked right in like nothing was amiss. Keith, suspicious, took one step across the threshold and looked around, before leaning his head back out. He did this a few times, trying to figure out where the hell the city went. 

“Hey! Close the door! You’re letting out the polar.”

Keith flinched, letting the door slam shut behind him. Lance barked out a laugh. He motioned with his head towards the bar, and Keith followed with his head hunched between his shoulders. 

“What is this place?” Keith asked softly as he climbed onto the high bar stool next to Lance. 

Lance didn’t immediately respond. He looked at the bartender and ordered two drinks, a frappuccino for himself and a regular hot coffee for Keith. As the bartender was busy making their drinks, he finally got an answer. 

“The  _ Leone d'Italia _ ,” Lance said with a wink. The words rolled off his tongue like he was able to speak the fucking language fluently. Angry heat rose to Keith’s cheeks and a piercing pain hit his chest. He paused a second. His head started feeling dizzy as well. “Keith, breathe,” Lance added while slapping him on the back, causing Keith to gasp. 

Just as Keith was about to round on Lance, their bartender had returned with their drinks, and she was practically howling. Ears hot with embarrassment, Keith shrunk back into his seat. 

“Child,” she said between laughs, “did he really just have to slap you on the back like a newborn to breathe?” 

“He’s kinda new to all of this, Mel,” Lance explained with a grin. “He’s been cooped up at the apartment since I met him. Barely leaves the place. I’m giving him his first ghost tour.”

The smile on Mel’s face faltered a moment, but it returned with a softer expression. She held out her hand to Keith. “I’m Melenor, though Lance here refuses to call me anything but Mel, so, I suppose you can call me Mel if you have to.” She sent a glare Lance’s way. 

Keith took her hand. “I’m Keith. It’s nice to meet you.”

After the handshake, Melenor slipped his coffee into his hand. Keith nearly dropped it from shock. It was warm. Actually warm. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt warmth. He assumed he felt it when he was alive, but it wasn’t like he could remember that time. Keith stared at it in awe, cupping both his hands around the cup. 

“How- how does this work? What is this?” Keith asked excitedly. 

Melenor leaned on the counter, the stray hairs from her bun framing her face. “You really don’t get out much do you?” She bit her lip to stifle a chuckle at Keith’s shifting eyes. “Tell me. What do you feel while you’re here?”

Keith thought a moment. Subconsciously, he held his cup tighter. He took a deep breath. There was really only one way to describe how he was feeling, how this place made him feel. “Alive,” Keith muttered, almost to himself. 

Melenor nodded. “This place,” she gestured to the room around her, “is called a Haunting. Hauntings are places we ghosts go to feel more alive. None of us know exactly why they exist or how they came to be, but they do us good. Many of us think they exist because the land was killed in some way in the living world and became a paranormal hotspot. Though, that’s just a theory.” Melenor stood straight and smoothed out her skirt. “I’ve had a few customers come in from the early days of the town and say they’re glad that the garden is back. We think it must have existed years ago in this exact spot, but infrastructure changed it in the living world.”

Keith couldn’t deny it. He was impressed. The information was new, and cool in a way, but the ease Melenor explained it really hit a chord in him. Sure, she had tons of customers every day, and, being a barista, she probably got to know a lot of information, but he couldn’t help but feel a bit of admiration towards the woman. Not only that, but she was friendly. 

He watched her walk off to continue her work. Lance, who was nursing his frappuccino, gave him a sly look. 

“What?” Keith furrowed his brow at the boy. Lance just shrugged, a smirk forming on his lips around the straw of his drink. “Seriously, what?” 

“I wouldn’t try it if I were you.”

“Try what?!”

“She’s already taken, my man,” Lance said with a pat to Keith’s shoulder. “She’s kinda loyal to the living.”

Keith gawked at him. “What the hell? What makes you think I’m interested in her?”

“Who isn’t?” Lance said.   

“But she’s female!”

“Oh, are you gay?” Lance turned his whole body towards Keith this time, a curious shine in those blue eyes of his. 

“I- I don’t know. Yes? I think? Uh…” Keith stuttered a bit too loudly then trailed off, eyes zoning out on the legs of Lance’s stool trying to think. Something in his brain twitched as if trying to remember something. 

Lance snorted at the response. “Then just check your ID card if you aren’t sure.”

Keith snapped back to reality at that. “My- my what?”

Lance frowned, “Your ID card, dude. Don’t you have one? All ghosts have one.”

“I’ve never seen one in my life… death.”

Lance’s frown turned into a grimace. He burst forward and started to invade Keith’s pockets, searching for an item Keith was positive wasn’t there. 

“Hey-HEY!!” He pushed Lance off, and the boy nearly fell out of his stool. Lance barely had the piece of mind to latch onto the counter before his body was flung backwards. He gave Keith an angry pout, to which Keith responded with the words “WHAT THE FUCK MAN” practically tattooed on his eyeballs. 

“I don’t have one of your dumb ID cards!”

“But  _ everyone _ has one!”

“Then I guess they forgot to issue me one!”

This didn’t satisfy Lance. He called Melenor back over to their section of the counter and immediately asked her what was “wrong with Keith because he doesn’t have an ID card.” Melenor raised an eyebrow and shook her head at his antics and turned to Keith. 

“Do you remember having one?” she asked. 

“I don’t know. I can’t remember.” 

Melenor turned to Lance. “Give me.” Lance was in the middle of asked her what she meant when she held out her hand and pressed harder, “ _ Give me it _ .” Lance figured it out and obediently reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a small plastic card.

Melenor took the card and held it in front of Keith’s face.  “It looks like this, do you recognise it?”

Keith studied the card. Overall it was a greyish blue with black or white writing (depending on the content of the writing). Some words and spaces were blurry as opposed to the other lettering, like it had been smudged when printing. On the left side of the card was Lance’s smiling face, though the smile itself looked fake. 

He took the card from Melenor and held it a moment. Finally a memory sparked in the back of his mind. He recognised the feeling of the card, not so much the look. 

“Yeah, I think I might have had one,” Keith said, staring at the card. “But I don’t know what happened to it.”

Melenor pursed her lips and took the piece of plastic back. She returned it to Lance and walked off with a shrug. “Looks like you two are going on a scavenger hunt.”


	4. Death Day: Lance Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance's first day dead! He doesn't get things, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm a bit late! I've just been the struggle. 
> 
> I was thinking of putting this in later, but I needed a pause before I continued Keith and Lance's story. Hope you all enjoy!

Lance stretched out his arms and yawned. He’d been wandering around the city for what felt like hours, and still couldn’t remember what the hell he was supposed to be doing-- or what he was doing _there_ of all places. He didn’t think he was from the area… or he was and he just couldn’t remember… what was he thinking about again?

 

He shook his head, leaning back on the park bench he had settled in earlier. He attempted to make small talk with the old lady next to him feeding the pigeons, but she either couldn’t hear him or didn’t want to. That didn’t bother him much, as he could easily find another conversational partner.

 

It wasn’t too long before he spotted one. He quickly said an ignored goodbye to the old lady and ran over to the tall glass of water standing by the drinking fountain. Her blonde pigtails draped over her shoulders, slipping into her face as she attempted to use the fountain. Lance slowed as he got closer to her, seeing the obscenely tall dalmatian by her side. He wasn’t too worried. Dogs loved him, but he would much rather that slobbering jaw be well away from his legs.

 

“Hello, the name’s-” Lance barely got a word out before the dog was standing between him and his Juliet, a low growl emitting from behind bared teeth. The young woman turned, confused, and looked in Lance’s direction… and then away from him.

 

“Kaltenecker, what’s gotten you all riled up?” She asked the dog, soothing her ears. “Come on, you can bark at squirrels later.” She tried to pull the dog away, but Kaltenecker was bound determined to bark at Lance. Without warning, the leash slid from her grip, and Kaltenecker was bounding towards Lance, ready to tackle him.

 

Lance yelled. Nothing happened.

 

The dog phased right through him.

 

Both he and Kaltenecker let out a whine of confusion. Kaltenecker started to sniff the ground at his feet and circle him, and Lance started to pat down his body, trying to figure out what in god’s name even just happened. Lance lifted his hand and held it towards the now setting sun. It was then he could see it. Just barely though.

 

He was transparent.

 

Just as Lance was about to have a meltdown and wonder what sort of strange dream this was, he heard a spout of deep laughter come from somewhere behind him. He whirled around, to see a man leaning up against a tree, staring at him with bright green eyes.

 

Lance cocked his head in confusion and forgot about the girl and her determined dog. The man seemed to be staring at him with a glint in his eye that felt directed at him. Cautiously, Lance approached the man.

 

“Do you-” Lance cleared his throat- “Do you know something about this?” He held out his forearms. He blinked as he saw the long scar stretching across the left one. “What the fuck?!”

 

The man laughed again. “So, Trigel was right! Looks like you’re the newbie everyone’s been talking about.” He clapped Lance on the shoulder.

 

“What?”

 

“The name’s Blaytz. What’s yours, kid?”

 

“Lance. Could you plea-”

 

“Great! Now, come with me, Lance. I got a really cool place to show you.”

 

He probably shouldn’t have, but he followed Blaytz. Probably to his death. Though, at this point, he wasn’t sure if he was even alive.

  
  


If Lance was unsure at first, he definitely was when they passed an old, rusted railroad track and an old station. They were somewhat outside the city limits, but not too far they couldn’t see the downtown lights. The further they went, the creepier it got, and Lance had to bite his lip from freaking out.

 

_Yep, I’m gonna die. This guy lead me out into the boonies to kill me and slaughter me afterwards._

 

“Watch your step, kid. Lotta holes where they dug up trees. Also, don’t wander off. You don’t want to get caught in a drug deal.” The way Blaytz smirked at him sent a shiver up Lance’s spine.

 

_He’s gonna kill me._

 

Soon, the river came into view in the reflected light of the moon. The closer Lance got, the more he noticed how dark and murky the water was. That was water he didn’t want to swim in. They walked along the riverbank, Lance slipping a few times with Blaytz catching him, until an old, dilapidated factory rose into view. Lance gulped at its size, knowing if he went in there, no one would hear his screams.

 

Blaytz had moved towards the half-broken window. “Hm, no one inside. That’s odd. Usually there’s at least one homeless person wandering around or a couple teens hooking up in here.”

 

“Why would teens hook up in an old factory in the middle of nowhere,” Lance asked, an edge to his voice.

 

“Heh, why not?”

 

Well, that did it for Lance. He was about to turn and leave when Blaytz grabbed him by the arm. He struggled in his strong grip, hoping to wrench his arm free, but Blaytz had no intention on letting him go.

 

“Looks like we have to do this the hard way.” Lance did not like the glint in his eyes this time.

 

“Hard way?”

 

“Do me a favor, kid, and tell me when the moon is reflected in that window there.” Blaytz pointed to one of the few untouched windows. Dust covered the inside and a cobweb was in the corner, but other than that it was still good.

 

The moon had slipped behind a cloud as they reached the building, but, from the change in atmosphere, it looked as if it was about to undress itself again. If he squinted, Lance could see the cloud’s reflection. The more light that escaped its veil, the more mirror-like the window became. It was only a minute before Lance could see the full moon staring back at him.

 

“Alright, I see it. Why is this-”

 

“CANNONBALL!!”

 

“AAAGH!”

 

Blaytz jumped, dragging Lance with him. Lance could barely process what happened. He saw the window get closer then-

“What the fuck?”

 

“You sure do like to say that a lot, don’t’cha, kid.”

 

Lance was somewhat distracted by the lights, and the music, and the full bar sitting at one corner of a whole fucking dance floor. This was a factory right? An abandoned, dusty, old factory by a river in the middle of nowhere. Where did this even _come from_? Lance spun to face Blaytz again, who was leaning against a large, tinted window.

 

Okay. What happened to that? What right did this place have to change appearances like that?

 

“Explain,” he said- no, demanded.

 

“Explain what?”

 

Lance flailed his arms, motioning to all he could. “This! _What_ is _this_ , _how_ did you do _that_ , _what_ is going _on_?!”

 

Another one of those grins popped up on Blaytz’s face, and Lance controlled the urge to strangle him. “Well, you see, kid, this here is what people call a “club.” A “club” is a place where-”

 

“NOT THAT.”

 

“Oh, alright,” Blaytz said. He pushed himself off the glass and, once again, grabbed Lance’s arm. Lance clenched his loose fist, trying to remain calm. He liked to think he was a very patient person, that he could handle anything that was thrown his way, but this guy dragging him places and being so vague all the time was getting on his nerves.

 

Blaytz at least gave him something this time, though. “Let’s get a drink. On me.”

 

_Yeah he better be paying._

  


Lance didn’t like how he was being stared at. He didn’t like the look of most of the people doing the staring. For a moment he thought he was at some sort of… costume club, if that was even a thing. There were all kinds of people. Bikers, farmers, librarians, rich looking folk, and the weird Elvis impersonator over in the corner- that was just a small taste.

 

He also didn’t like the whispers that he was able to overhear when passing by someone.

 

“Oh dear, he’s the one?”

 

“So young.”

 

“Poor thing.”

 

“A lot smaller than I’d thought he’d be.”

 

That just made the whole experience weirder and creepier and also very out of place for the upbeat music that was playing in the background. He was relieved when they reached the bar, and all attention was directed away from him by the track changing. He let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, surprised at how empty his lungs felt.

 

“Feels better, huh?” Blaytz patted Lance on the back a few times before waving to the bartender. Lance started patting down his pockets, looking for his wallet to grab his ID. He immediately stopped when he caught a glance at the numerous small scar like marks covering his left arm.

 

“No, you won’t need that here, kid, but if you want- oh. Yeah, was wondering when you’d notice those.”

 

“What are these?” Lance asked, his voice floating.

 

“I mean, I can explain it to ya, kid, but I might make a foe pass or however you say it.”

 

“Faux pas.” Lance looked up at the sudden female voice. A tall woman, whom he assumed was their bartender, stood before them, her silvery white hair tied back in a bun and shimmering in the colorful lighting. She had one hand on her hip, holding a notepad and pen, and the other pressing against the countertop.

 

“What do you want, Blaytz?” she said with more than a twinge of annoyance.

 

“Ah, just your beautiful face, Mel, is all I need!” Blaytz folded his arms on the counter and leaned towards her.

 

Mel, Lance assumed, scoffed and looked toward his direction. “I take it he dragged you here? Probably to me to explain things.”

 

“Well, you’re better with words than I am,” Blaytz explained, a light embarrassed blush streaking his cheeks.

 

“Where’s that attitude when you’re out there flirting with every ghost on the dancefloor?” Mel snapped, then yelled to another bartender working at the other end of the bar. “Get the idiot his regular and-” she turned back to Lance- “what you would like sweetheart?”

 

There was a lot Lance had to process. One thing, what the hell did she mean by “ghost,” and, number B, he was still getting over the shock at not being carded so he couldn’t make words at the moment. Everything was happening too fast. This was a weird night.

 

“Just get him a lite,” Blaytz muttered, waving his hand as if to dismiss the conversation.

 

Mel pursed her red lips and yelled at her poor coworker again. “Grab a lite as well!”

 

Lance flinched when he felt an elbow poke him in his ribs. It hurt more than usual, but he was on edge tonight, so it made sense. He half glared at the offender, although he suspected it wouldn’t do much good. Blaytz had thick skin- that much he could already tell.

 

“What?”

 

“If you ever have any big questions, about anything, come to Mel. She knows what she’s talking about.”

 

Lance nodded. Something told him he’d best take that advice to heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you ask, Yes. Mel has two jobs. Day and Night. Why doe she have two jobs? Because she wants to.


	5. Haggar's Occult and Book Shop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Lance arrive at their final stop for the night. Keith sees some familiar faces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I am so sorry I didn't update last week. There was some impromptu puppy sitting and I couldn't get anything done. 
> 
> I wanna have chapter 6 posted this weekend to make up for it. 
> 
> Thank you and hope you enjoy! 
> 
> I'm going to post a picture of the pup I was puppy sitting at the end of the chapter for your enjoyment. His name is Oreo and he is a good boi.

“For the last fucking time, Lance, I don’t know where I dropped it!!”

 

“How can you not know?!”

 

“Everything was a blur until you found me, okay?” Keith crossed his arms tightly over his chest and folded into himself. He could feel Lance’s smug gaze on him. He hated it. 

 

Lance linked his arms behind his head, giving his chest a stretch, which puffed it out uncoincidentally. “Well, I know I swooped in like a knight in shining armour, but you don’t have to say it like that.”

 

Keith quirked his brow. “Like what?”

 

“Like I swooped in like a knight in shining armour.”

 

“You’re the one who said it like that!”

 

“Hush, Keith. We’re almost there.”

 

“Almost  _ where _ ?! We’ve been walking back alleys for hours!” Keith groaned, his head falling into his hands. He really just wanted to rip his hair out. Something to take his frustration out on. Anything. He’d rip out Lance’s hair if he thought starting a fight would help, but it was obvious that wouldn’t help. He was subjected to following Lance wherever the boy wanted to go, even if Keith was completely clueless as to what they were doing. 

 

It was dark. The moon above them was barely a sliver and the stars were covered with clouds. He spent all day with Lance, and despite actually feeling recharged (amazing what the sun could do), he also felt drained. Emotionally drained. Lance could be too much for him- scratch that- he was too much for him. 

 

He bit the inside of his lip, watching his feet hit the dark, wet pavement. His shoe kicked a broken, empty spray can and it rolled to the wall in front of him. Lance had already turned the corner and was heading back out to the street, but Keith was too preoccupied to follow him. He watched the can hit the wall and bounce back slightly, quickly noticing the small stripe of faded purple on the wall that easily matched the colour on the can. 

He looked up to see a huge symbol painted on the old stone wall. There was a slight 3D effect to it, like whoever drew it wanted to make it artsy, but it failed to convey any artistry with the words “ _ Fuck The Javeen Regime”  _ scrawled overtop it in a runny black paint.  

 

The word “whoa” escaped his mouth before his brain could even process it. Keith stopped in his tracks to take a few steps backwards, to marvel at the work in front of him. It may have not been Sistine worthy, but the graffiti was art nonetheless, and he thought it was something else. Lance came hurrying back, asking what was wrong with him and why he was taking so long but lost his words when his eyes followed Keith’s to the wall. 

 

“That wasn’t here the last time I came through,” Lance said under his breath. His eyes darkened as he studied the image. 

 

Keith turned his head to barely look at him, but his eyes didn’t move. “When was the last time you came through here?”

 

“Last night, actually…”

 

This fact locked itself in Keith’s memory. He was about to ask if Lance knew what the symbol behind the statement meant, but he was already being drug out of the alleyway and onto the street before the words could form on his tongue. Once there, he took a look around to find that he had no earthly clue where the two of them were, and he wasn’t sure he liked the looks of the place. Vines crept up the buildings and paint chipped off walls. They were in another part of the old city. They probably weren’t far from the apartment, considering the architecture was similar, but Keith was a little disoriented from all the running around they’d done that day. 

 

He looked down to see Lance was still holding his bicep. The boy looked to preoccupied with staring at a building down the street to notice he hadn’t let go, so Keith let it slide in favour of satisfying his curiosity. 

 

“What’re you looking a-”

 

Lance cut him off. “Why are there kids out here at this hour?”

 

Keith peered around Lance and followed his gaze to a storefront at the end. A group of people, the “kids” as Lance had described, stood outside it as if waiting to be let in. Something about them squicked something in Keith. He stepped around Lance and started in that direction. 

 

“Let’s check it out.” 

 

Lance blinked at him. “What?  _ You  _ wanna check out what those  _ people _ are doing?”

 

Keith stopped, calling back over his shoulder at Lance, “You wanted to go there, right?”

 

“Well, yeah-”

 

“Then let’s just get it over with so I can go  _ home _ .”

 

“Ah, there it is.”

  
  
  


“Are we going inside?” asked Keith, peering through the window. He couldn’t see much, but a few potted plants that hung by the window and a messy table covered in stacks of books. 

 

“Yeah,” Lance said knocking on the door. He didn’t even wait for a signal or someone to come towards the door. Keith mulled over the rules of entering a Haunting, but gave up and just assumed Lance knew what he was doing. Almost immediately the door opened and a large black cat darted out. It stopped, hissed at Lance, and sat on the pavement. Lance then grabbed Keith arm and drug him inside before the door closed again. 

 

The inside was a dusty bookshop. The potted plants still hung by the window and the table of book piles remained where Keith saw it. He blinked, pulling his arm from Lance’s grip. 

 

“Is this a Haunting? Everything still looks the sa-”

 

“No, it’s not a Haunting, now  _ shh _ .” Lance cut him off with a hand to his mouth. Keith suppressed the urge to lick it as he scowled. However, Lance had no intention of removing it, so Keith gave in, giving Lance’s palm a long wet stripe of saliva, to which he squeaked and jumped away, wiping his hand on his jeans.

 

“What the fuck man?!” Lance shouted in his quietest whisper. 

 

“Why are you whispering?” Keith asked, just as low. Lance looked over to the cashier line, where an older woman stood discussing something with three college kids- 

 

Oh  _ hell no _ .  

 

“All of the cabinets were slamming, Honerva!” James shouted. “Ask Ina and Nadia. They were there!”

 

The two girls nodded their heads. One took off her classes and wiped off a bit of fog that had accumulated. 

 

“It’s true,” she said. “I didn’t think we’d see anything, and Ina here swore that the chances of anything paranormal happening were slim, but we go in there for a few minutes and it’s like a demon started flying about the room!”

 

The other girl, Ina, passionately nodded her head to support the claim. Keith stared at them cynically, crossing his arms. 

 

“That is an exaggeration,” he said quietly to Lance, who was just as suspicious of their claims.

 

“Yeah, maybe  _ I _ could have done that, but you definitely couldn’t.” He nudged Keith in the side. “But hey, congrats. You officially scared the shit out of a live one.”

 

Keith scowled but took the compliment. He wondered why those kids were here, of all places, in the middle of the night. He didn’t have to wonder long, though, as they very loudly answered his question.

 

“I told you not to go into those apartments,” Honerva said, fiddling with something behind the counter. “They house a lot more than you can imagine, and a lot more than a few amateur ghost hunters can handle.” She gave them a glare, which visibly sent shivers through the three. “But I assume you are going to try again?”

 

_ Please no, _ Keith couldn’t help but think. 

 

“Of course we are!” James proclaimed proudly. “We aren’t going to let a little ghost scare us off.”

 

Nadia agreed, adding her own incentive, “We also are working on a group project about the Fire, and any information we could get from those apartments would be useful.”

 

Honerva, curious, leaned over the counter, her voice low enough that Keith strained to hear it. “And what do you think you can uncover about the Fire that the history books haven't already written?”

 

Ina finally spoke up, staring at the ground as she did so. “That’s the thing. Textbooks are often written from a certain perspective. The Great University Fire had to have a large impact on the surrounding town and University itself, yet little to no information is written and produced publicly on the subject. If this was such a major event in local history, why wouldn’t there be more open discussions about it and how it affected the city?”

 

Honerva looked impressed, to say the least. She leaned back and a clattering ensued. A drawer was opened from her side and the sound of trinkets spilling out onto the floor deafened the room. She finally produced a small black book and handed it to James. 

 

“You have this for 24 hours. You return this to me immediately. Tell no one you have this,” she said. She tapped the book’s cover before pushing it and James away. “Now, shoo. I have other customers. You are holding up the line.”

 

The three of them glanced between each other and Honerva before grabbing their things and scurrying out the front door. Keith swore he heard James mutter, “Crazy old woman!” as he passed. 

 

Honerva cleaned up her area before slapping her palms on the counter. She looked towards the back of the room, past Keith and Lance. Keith knew she couldn’t see them, but he had the strangest feeling she knew of their existence.

 

“Yes, Haggar’s Occult and Book Shop is open, how may I help you?”

 

* * *

 

Here's a picture of Oreo! Have a great day!

 

 


	6. In Witch there's a Cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith learns more about Honerva.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm updating before midnight! That's a first. 
> 
> So, I wanted to have a chapter out by last weekend to help me catch up from the Thursday I missed, but I forgot I don't have weekends. So that was a fail. Also, I've been doing a 30-day challenge which I am also behind on, so that's been making me struggle. So, I'm just going to stick to Thursday updates. 
> 
> I hope you like! 
> 
> I am also starting a Ko-fi! If you really like my works and want me to continue and produce more, I would greatly appreciate it if you could buy me a kofi! The button is on my profile~ <3

“Hey, Honerva!” Lance bounded over to the counter and leaned on it. His face was surprisingly close to hers, but she had no reaction, at least to his proximity. 

 

“Oh, it’s just you Lance,” she said. “What do you want, boy?” 

 

Lance hopped up on the counter, sitting with his legs dangling off it. A few things shuffled and moved. A small bottle fell to the floor and broke. Honerva sighed, looking for her portable broom. 

 

“I’m just here to say hi. Is that a problem?” Lance said his usual flirt in his tone. Keith rolled his eyes. 

 

“Since when do you just come to my shop to talk? You always want something.”

 

Lance dramatically feigned offense. He threw his hand over his chest and leaned back on the counter.  “Honerva,” he gasped (Keith resisted the urge to walk out right then), “why I never. I consider you to be a dear friend, you know and this sort of unjust accusation-” 

 

“Lance, tell me what you want or I'm drenching you in salt.” 

 

He backed off with his hand in the air. Honerva couldn’t see that, but his silence told her that he was done being… well, Lance. She removed herself from the cashier’s spot and headed to the front door. Keith wondered why, but then heard a light scratching on the glass. He looked over to see the black cat from earlier begging to be let back inside. She opened the door, and it darted through the bookstore and into an open door in the back. 

 

Now that Honerva was a safe distance away, Lance restarted the conversation. “I’m just showing my friend around the town. He’s sorta new.” 

 

Honerva locked the door and busied herself around the shop. She straightened a few items, reorganized a few shelves. She seemed to have forgotten all about Lance and Keith’s existence, which she may have, for all Keith knew. How she knew of them at all confused him, because, as far as he could tell, she wasn’t a ghost. She was a living person. 

 

Living people  _ shouldn’t  _ know about their existence past skeptical curiosity after one of them made contact with the living world. Yet, here she was, talking to Lance like they had known each other for years, and vice versa. Keith looked to Lance for an explanation. He returned his gaze with a sideways grin but didn’t say anything. So much for his help. 

 

“And why bring him here?” Honerva asked, taking a book off one of her own shelves and tucking it under her arm. She headed for that backroom the cat ran off to. Lance started to follow her, so Keith did the same. 

 

“Why wouldn’t I bring him to see the town’s most alluring and powerful witch?” Lance flirted.

 

Keith paused, grabbing Lance’s elbow before he could cross the threshold of the door. Lance stopped and goggled at him. 

 

“She’s a  _ witch _ ?” Keith asked in a harsh whisper. “You’re telling me this woman is a witch?”

 

“Yeah? How else do you think she can hear us?” Lance didn’t lower his voice one bit as if the information wasn’t particularly sensitive. “If anyone can give us advice on how to find your missing ID, it’d be her.” 

 

“Are you sure we can trust her?” Keith was doubtful. Granted, he didn’t know much about witches and their role with this weird purgatory they were in, but the sound of talking to a witch about their problems did not seem all too enticing. He eyed the doorway like it was the entrance to a gingerbread house and he and Lance were Hansel and Gretel- but this time Hansel knew the rumors. 

 

Lance patted the hand holding his elbow in an attempt to be comforting. “I know it sounds bad, but her and Mel are tight friends. In fact, Mel was the one who introduced me to her. I trust Mel with my life-” Lance pursed his lips in a grimace- “er…  _ death _ . If she trusts Honerva, then I trust her. Besides, for an old lady, she’s pretty cool.”

 

Speaking of the devil, Honerva’s voice came from inside the room, followed by the clanging sounds of pots and pans. “I haven’t even reached fifty, Lance. Quit calling me old!”

 

An embarrassed chuckle left Lance’s lips as he glanced behind him. “Ears like a hawk,” he muttered. 

 

Keith loosened his grip on Lance’s elbow. “Isn’t the saying “eyes like a hawk?” He received a glare for that. 

 

Honerva’s voice rang out again. “Lance, if you’re done flirting with your new friend, will you  _ please _ come in? I would like to close up my shop for the night.” 

 

“I am not flirting with him!” Lance shouted. He stalked into the room ready to go into a rant about how that was something he  _ would not _ do with Keith, but Honerva wasn’t having it. 

 

“Really? I thought you flirted with everything that gave you attention.”

 

“I do not!!” 

 

Keith trailed Lance, a bit distanced as the other boy was a bit determined to prove a point to Honerva. Lance stood in the middle of the kitchen, leaning against a small, round dining table with his arms crossed. 

 

Keith stood at the entryway, unsure of where to go. He looked around while Lance was busy defending himself (unsuccessfully as Honerva had the perfect response to each of his claims). Organized chaos was the best way Keith could describe it. It looked messy, but he could see the method to the madness in how certain items were grouped together. 

 

Shelves piled high with kitchenware were organized by use, the spice rack had vials of who knows what situated in it and the spices themselves were hanging in a metal basket close to the stove, cookbooks stood in the open cupboard where the plates would normally go, and the dishes were either in the sink ready to be cleaned or stacked on the table ready to be used. A stairway led to the top floors towards the back of the room, and a backdoor and two high windows were on the wall to his right. Honerva only had the stove light on and depended on the moon to light up the rest of the room. 

 

“Lance, would you be a dear and taste test for me? I haven’t killed the spoon yet, so you’ll have to expend some of your energy.” Honerva waved Lance over to the stove, where she had a pot sitting over one of the burners. She was stirring it slowly and dipping out some of the liquid in the spoon. 

 

Lance chirped a reply and passed Keith to get to the stove. As he did so, he motioned Keith to sit, giving him an irked head nod. Keith wasn’t sure where Lance wanted him to sit, so he climbed up on the counter next to them.

 

“Tastes good. Kinda lighter than usual though,” Lance said, handing the spoon back to Honerva. 

 

Keith leaned over to look inside the pot. A strange brown liquid simmered at the bottom. “What is it?” he asked. 

 

“Kinda like ghost alcohol,” Lance replied. “It’s a drink they serve down at the club. I’ll show you that place when you stop acting like a hermit and actually try talking to people for once.” 

 

“A ghost club? Why is she making the ghost drinks?”

 

Honerva, who had already left the stove to search her cupboards for whatever was missing from the potion, paused and looked back at the two. “Was that your friend’s voice, Lance?” 

 

“Yeah, he’s just asking questions.”

 

Honerva bit her lip and gave them a quizzical look. The moonlight reflected in her eyes and made them shine in the semi-dark room. “A husky voice, hasn’t he?” 

 

Keith blushed. Lance made a smart remark. 

 

“I dunno if I’d call it husky. I’d say it’s more frog-like.” 

 

“Excuse me?” Keith whirled towards Lance, his arm sweeping the counter and accidentally knocking the salt shaker to the floor. Honerva tsked and moved to clean it up. 

 

“What sort of friend did you bring, Lance? A cat?” 

 

“He’s not a cat. He’s a Keith. Though, I guess it’s the same thing.” 

 

When Honerva cleaned up the spilled salt, tossing it over her shoulder, and replaced the cap, she passed her hand through Keith’s arm to put it in its place. She stood there for a moment, even after Keith jerked his arm away (because the feeling of another being going through his body was disgusting, Keith decided). 

 

“Keith’s your name?” she finally asked. 

 

Keith didn’t know how to respond. He hesitated before he answered that yes, his name was Keith, and now he wondered if that shouldn’t be his name. Honerva just laughed. 

 

“It’s a nice name,” she said, “pairs well with Lance.”

 

“Honerva no,” groaned Lance. 

 

“Honerva does what she likes, Lance,” she sent a smirk in his general direction, “and right now she likes to give you a mission!” 

 

Evan Lance did a double-take at that one. “What sort of mission?”

 

She hurried to the stairs and made a kissing noise. “Kova, come down to mommy!” 

 

The cat meowed and padded down to the kitchen. It rubbed against Honerva’s legs as she reached down to pet it. “I want you two to take Kova to the university campus. They have an Alder tree there. I need a few sprigs from it. Put it in his collar and he’ll know to come home.”

 

Kova looked over to the two, eyeing them both with his large orange eyes. When his and Keith’s eyes met, he arched his back and let out a hiss. 

 

Keith saw the absolute hate in that cat’s eyes.  


	7. The Details

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is starting to put two and two together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes, I'm sorry y'all for not updating last week! I was struggling with my anxiety and depression and all that and chose to take a mental health week. I was burnt out. But, here's this chapter. I'll be back on a regular schedule now!
> 
> If you enjoy, which I hope you will, please kudos and comment! I love hearing from y'all and it helps me keep going!

Keith was sulking behind him, and he knew it. Lance felt the tell-tale tingle of Keith’s glare on his back, one that he had grown somewhat used to over the months they’d lived together. It wasn’t as intense as it used to be. Lance was pretty good at reading a room, and he found that slowly Keith had begun to trust him (at least he hoped he did). Honerva was right in a way. Keith was a cat. Lance had taken in a stray cat named Keith. Lance chuckled at the thought, which prompted Keith to growl behind him. 

  
  


“What’s so funny?” he asked. Lance turned to face him, a wry smile on his face. 

 

“Nothing! Just I never thought I’d adopt a pet after I died.” 

 

Keith’s guard lowered just a bit with his shoulders. Lance saw the confusion light up in his eyes and couldn’t stifle another giggle. 

 

“When did you get a pet?” 

 

“You know him,” Lance said, “he’s a tomcat named Keith.” 

 

“Why would you name your- wait a minute.” There was enough pause between Keith’s thoughts for Lance to start laughing. “I am not your cat!!!”

 

“Sure you are!” Lance yelled over his shoulder, counting off his fingers over his head. “You like to climb on the counters. You stay inside and sorta crawl into your own little holes- and don’t deny you curling up in that empty box in the living room. You are the  _ definition _ of “if I fits I sits” mister. You are also prone to scratch at me if I walk by-” 

 

“Now that’s your own fault.”

 

“How is it my fault?”

 

A yowl from ahead quieted them. Kova sat on the corner of the sidewalk, displeased with the slow pace and the arguing. His fluffy tail swished over the ground angrily. Lance and Keith picked up their pace, afraid to anger the cat even further. Once they were a few steps behind him, Kova started walking again. 

 

They weren’t taking any back alleys this time. Kova knew exactly where he was going as if used to running errands for his master, and neither Lance nor Keith wanted to argue with him. Lance almost questioned why he was even following the cat in the first place, but he didn’t want to come across any more graffiti on their way to campus. The whole situation bothered him more than it probably should have. 

 

It was the color. That jagged symbol was in purple. 

 

Lance looked down at his shoes as he walked. His sneakers were scuffed; the tips of the laces were grey from years of use. These were the shoes he died in, he knew that much for a fact, and he had Blaytz to thank. Without the older ghost, Lance would have been just as lost as Keith was when he found him. He knew this. 

 

And he knew that purple symbol on the wall did not bode well for the living world. There was no way he could be this suspicious if it weren’t. Lance lost himself in thought, moving his legs on autopilot. He was back in the Haunting in the old factory, sitting and drinking with Blaytz. 

 

_ “How come everyone here is dressed so weirdly?” Lance asked, sniffing the drink Mel had given him.  _

 

_ Blaytz swirled his drink in his glass before taking a sip and coughing. “Ah, yeah,” he croaked, “that’s the stuff.” He turned his bright green eyes to Lance. “What’d you say, kid?”  _

 

_ Lance groaned, tired of the nickname. “My name is Lance. L-A-N-C-E. Lance. And I asked what’s with the weird get-ups?” _

 

_ Blaytz chuckled. “Oh, you mean Elvis? That was his thing when he was alive. Don’t ask me why; he absolutely sucks at the impression.” When Lance didn’t make a response, Blaytz realized that  _ **_that_ ** _ wasn’t his question. He set his glass down and stretched his arms over the back of their stools. “It’s what they were wearing when they died. All these people here are looking for those clues on their ID cards that Mel told you about. Their first clue is the clothing. What time period they came from, the conditions they lived in, the sort of life they might have led… clothes tell a lot about the person-” _

 

Two yowls broke Lance’s derailed Lance’s train of thought. He stopped, finding himself in the middle of the street. He spun around to see Keith staring at him with his arms outstretched and Kova with his tail perked up. Keith and Kova were yelling at him. 

 

“Where are you going? Campus is the other way!”

 

Lance jogged back over to his party. Both of them had similar looking scowls on their faces. Lance couldn’t help but comment. “You two sound and look the same. Are you sure you’re not related?” 

 

“Fuck, Lance! For the last time, I am not a cat!” 

 

Kova protested interruption loudly. Keith huffed and threw out his hand, pointing at the cat. “See? You made him mad.” Kova swatted at Keith’s hand, and, despite the fact that the cat’s claws went straight through him, Keith jumped back, clutching his hand to his chest. 

 

Lance blinked, staring at Keith’s hand. Oh yes, he remembered what he was thinking about. That purple stain. 

 

“Calm down, Kova,” he said sternly. Kova swished his tail at him and turned, returning to the matter at hand, and that was getting the ingredients for Honerva. Keith shot Lance a quizzical look but fell into step with him in silence. 

 

Lance couldn’t stop glancing at Keith’s hands, which were now at his sides, thumbs in his pockets.

 

_ “Now,” Blaytz explained, “there’s a lot of things we ghosts can change about our appearance.” He was a few drinks in and obviously more than a little tipsy. Lance, having been given a Lite of… whatever Blaytz was drinking, was perfectly sober. Buzzed, but sober. Blaytz continued, slurring his words slightly, “I mean, you should see Mel with her hair down. WHOO!! Her husband was a lucky man. That is, before she died, butthat’snotimportantnow.”  _

 

_ Lance tried to process his friend’s words but to no avail. There was too much going on and he was distracted by the marks on his arms. Blatz grabbed his wrist and pulled Lance closer to him. Lance could smell the drink on his breath, surprisingly of garlic. Lance held his breath and scrunched his nose but Blaytz barely noticed.  _

 

_ “There’s one thing you need to know, kid. When we die, whatever is on us crosses with us. That’s why you’ll see people with face paint, stains, tattoos… Keep an eye on those. We’re all on the same team here, trying to pass on, but… I’ve seen some shady characters walking about. Ain’t that right, Mel?”  _

 

_ Blaytz gave Mel a lopsided smile as she came by for a checkup. She took one look at Blaytz and snatched his glass away.  _

 

_ “No more for you,” she said. “You reek of garlic.” _

 

Lance never got to ask why they had garlic flavored drinks. 

 

“Where’d you get the purple?” Lance asked Keith as they rounded the final corner before they approached the campus. Keith, instantly understanding what he meant, pulled his hand out of his pocket and studied it. Lance took another peek from the corner of his eye. 

 

“I honestly don’t know, why?” Keith shoved his hand back in his pocket. 

 

Why? Because it was the same shade as that aggressive sign.  _ Fuck the Javeen Regime _ . 

 

“No reason. You left or right-handed?” 

 

“I… think I’m right handed? What’s with the interrogation, Lance?” Keith was tensing up again. Lance caught the flash in his violet eyes, the one that darkened his expression and made him raise his walls. 

 

The stain was on the back of his left hand. If he was right-handed, that probably made sense. 

 

“I’m not interrogating you. I’m helping you.” Lance pursed his lips and nodded. “Somehow you got purple paint on your hand, and you’ve had it since you died right?” Keith seemed to catch on. Lance grinned at him. “You got to keep an eye on the details, Keith. Otherwise, you won’t ever move on.”

 

Keith was about to say something, but an excited meow grabbed their attention. Kova was sitting by a large sign with the word “Admissions” printed on it. They had made to campus before either of them noticed. Keith gazed about him, intrigued with the scenery in spite of the darkness that shrouded most of it. The large yard in front of the admissions building was lit up by a lone lamp post. 

 

“I think I see the tree,” Lance said, yanking Keith’s arm and dragging him with him as he sprinted towards their goal. 

 

“How are you going to get the sprigs?” Keith asked, watching Lance walk around the base of the tree. Lance replied with a shrug. A teasing smirk spread across Keith’s face. “What? You can’t just use your energy to grab it?” 

 

“It’s Alder,” Lance said, furrowing his brow. “Alder is kinda funny for us ghosts. I once grabbed some of it when I was hanging out with Trigel and it practically sent me flying.”

 

Keith took a preemptive step back and eyed the tree. “You mean like it hurt you or something?” 

 

Lance laughed. “No! No! I meant it gave me a whole bunch of energy. Quit staring at it like it’s going to bite you.” He was mathing out how much energy he still had, considering he hadn’t actually slept in two days when Keith reached out and grabbed a limb. 

 

Nothing much happened. 

 

Keith looked at him as if Lance had just blatantly lied to him. 

 

“Okay, you just don’t count. You sleep a lot as it is and barely have any energy.”

 

Keith snapped a few twigs off and held them close to the ground for Kova to see. While he waited on Kova to finish cleaning himself and come over, Keith decided to keep glaring at Lance. Lance groaned. 

 

“What? Were you hoping to have an energy burst?” He asked, sarcasm dripping off his tongue. 

 

“Well, it works for you. Why wouldn’t it do something similar for me?” 

 

“I don’t know! And why are you wasting your energy to-” 

 

Kova hissed, making the two of them jump. When they turned to see what was wrong, they saw his tail as it darted further into campus and out of sight. Lance barely had enough time to pull Keith behind the building as a group of shadows passed by.   


	8. A Step Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not sure how to handle the situation when Kova runs off, Keith and Lance hide behind a building. Then Keith runs off. He accidentally makes a discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's hard getting back into the swing of things after taking a whole week off. I'm hoping to get back into gear though. I'm also hoping to up the chapter lengths. I've been keeping them short, but I'm hopin I can really dig in and work on these chapters and give you quality content. 
> 
> I hope yall enjoy <3

“Why did you just yank me over here? They can’t see us!” Keith growled. He glared over his shoulder at Lance who was gripping his arms so tight his knuckles were white. Keith batted away his cold hands and attempted to put some space between them. 

 

“Yeah,” replied Lance absently, “but they can see the twigs floating in midair.” He looked around the corner of the building to see the shadows lengthening as they approached. 

 

Keith blinked at the alder twigs in his hand. “I forgot about that.” 

 

Lance rolled his eyes. “Did you see where Kova went?”

 

“No.”

 

“Shit. This campus is huge. He could be anywhere.”

 

“Should we wait here for him? If we leave the twigs something might get them.”

 

“And if we take them with us, we might have the junior  _ Ghostbusters _ on our hands.” Lance sighed, leaning against the back wall of the admissions building. 

 

“Is that who’s out there?” Keith asked. He inched closer to peek around the building. Lance grabbed his sleeve and pulled him back. 

 

“I can’t tell. Their faces are shadowed. And drop those! You’re wasting energy!”

 

Keith just stared at him, much to his chagrin. “I feel fine,” he said with a shrug. 

 

“If you pass out, I’m leaving you.” 

 

Lance returned to check if the figures had left the area yet. They finally wandered over closer to the light, and he could finally count them. There were three. One really tall one with broad shoulders who stood really close to a long-legged, lanky one, and a smaller one. Lance couldn’t tell much more as their faces were still covered by hoods and facemasks. A shadow dropped from the group and the clanking sound of a can hitting the pavement echoed across the quiet quad. The can rolled towards the lampost. 

 

Lance squinted. “Keith, they look like trouble. We might want to find a way around-” Lance glanced over his shoulder and stopped. Keith was gone. Disappeared. Poof. Lance swung around and called out for him, not getting a response. 

 

“What the fuck man?!” Lance cursed as he sprinted in a vague direction away from the street.

 

* * *

  
  


Keith didn’t really like that cat. He would rather not have to go and look for it either, but despite what he said to Lance, he was feeling pretty tired after the long day of adventuring outside and wanted to head back to the apartment. Though, he didn’t feel as if his energy were draining from holding the… uh… well, he forgot the name of the plant he was holding but whatever it was. 

 

So he ran off. 

 

He knew Lance would kill him for this- kill him again that is. It bothered Keith how Lance was always so overprotective of him. Keith could take care of himself. He might have a few panic attacks here and there during the process but he had this whole death thing handled. He didn’t need Lance babying him the entire time making him feel like he had to be taken care of. It wasn’t his fault his energy levels were naturally lower than Lance’s. He could cope. 

 

Yes. He could cope. 

 

He hoped. 

 

“Kova!” Keith shouted into the dark campus. He had passed a few buildings, but he wasn’t sure what they were for. They were tall buildings with large windows. One had a weathervane lit up on top of it shaped like a crow. Keith shoved the twigs in his jeans pocket. “Here kitty! I know you can hear me!” 

 

After about ten minutes of wandering around, Keith finally found a sign of life. It wasn’t Kova. He paused, unsure of how to handle it. He was at another end of campus. The sidewalk was lit up by a row of floodlights, and he was out in the open with a person leaning on a fence not 20 feet from him. She was staring up at one of the third story windows. 

 

Even from where he was standing Keith knew she looked pretty… pretty familiar. Was she dead too? Had he seen her before he joined Lance at the apartment? 

 

He crept closer in order to get a better look at her, careful not to get in her line of vision. As long as he was adjacent enough to see and not gain her attention, he should be in the clear. About ten feet separated them now, however, the floodlights worked to his advantage. He could see her clearly. Her dark eyes glinted, and her navy blue hair fell just the right way to frame her face. 

 

“I didn’t mean for this to happen, buddy,” she said. “I hope you’ll forgive me.” 

 

A soft  _ mrrow _ answered her. Keith immediately saw Kova’s orange eyes pierce through the darkness and bounce towards them. He leaped gracefully on top of the fence and rubbed his face against the young woman’s. She spluttered and grinned, straightening herself and scratching Kova’s ears. 

 

“Hey, long time no see!” She laughed. 

 

It was that moment Keith realised he made a grave mistake. Her voice echoed in his head and his chest tightened. A numbness coursed through his veins like an icy river and he could only stare past them and up to that very window. His feet lost all feeling and tingled at the soles. He tried to stabilize himself but the adrenaline going to his head swirled around and only made him dizzier. 

 

He was scared. 

 

That was the only way he could describe it. He didn’t think he could feel any colder than he already did, but it was like he was dumped in a bucket of ice water. His vision flickered. His energy was draining fast. Faster than he could control. He reached into his pocket, pulled out the alder and threw it to the ground, hoping that would help. It didn’t. It only seemed to make him spiral. He fell to his knees and tried to breathe, but of course, that didn’t work. No air there. 

 

The anxiety kicked in as if sensing Keith couldn’t cope with the situation. Garbled thoughts flooded his mind, some he couldn’t even recognize. The fear of whatever was happening made sense, but he couldn’t logic his way out of any of it. Nothing. Nothing made sense and nothing eased the stabbing pain he started to feel. 

 

He wanted to punch something. He wanted to hit something and make impact and feel something just  _ shatter _ . That’s when his neck started to itch. So he scratched it. He scratched and he scratched until-

 

Kova meowed loudly right in his ear. Keith was far too gone to have a reaction. He startled and fell back onto his bum, but he was frozen otherwise. 

 

“What you got there?” the young woman asked, kneeling down next to Kova. “Huh. These look like they’re from the tree next to the admissions.” She glared at Kova. “Did you break these off the tree? I had an art project based on that tree and if you ruined it-” she studied the sprigs more closely, chewing on her bottom lip as she did so- “No… you couldn’t have done that. I take it you want these?” 

 

Kova mewled in response, weaving between her legs. She laughed again. “I see, I see. Your mom’s sent you on a mission. Well, here you go.” She slipped the limbs under Kova’s collar, angling them so the leaves wouldn’t get in his eyes. He looked ridiculous with a twig sticking out and above his head, but he was content. He immediately twisted around and started trotting back home.

 

One last glance to the building and she was gone. Keith could feel the final drops of his energy seeping out of him and into the very concrete he sat on. It wasn’t long before he heard the sound of running feet coming up behind him. 

 

“Keith! There you are! I have been- OH SHIT!” 

 

The next thing he knew, Lance was picking him up. Keith zoned back into reality just enough to notice he was being carried bridal style, and Lance was heading back in the direction of the apartment. 

 

“Lance, no,” he muttered, trying to push him away. His energy was gone, and his attempts were almost laughable. “I can- I can walk myself.”

 

“If I set you on the ground you may fall through it like you did this morning,” Lance grunted and shifted Keith in his arms. “I really should just leave you there for running off like that.”

 

Keith couldn’t respond. He was falling asleep. He tried to force his eyes open, but they kept drifting closed. His cheek was pressed right up against Lance’s chest, and he swore he could feel a heartbeat, though he attributed that to the delirium. His thoughts were jumbled. 

 

“Keith? Keith. Keith, can you not?” Lance tightened his grip. “You’re gonna be the second death of me, I swear.” 


	9. How It Began

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance finally tells Keith how they met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes some memories are best left in the dark.

_ “Don’t go near the dorms,” Honerva said as they were reaching the door. “Bad place those are.”  _

 

_ Keith wanted to ask what she meant, but he was too busy dodging Kova’s angry swipes. Honerva laughed and reminded him that he was indeed dead and that the cat could not hurt him, but he still wasn’t sure. Kova obviously hated him and would do anything to get at him. He ended up knocking over a very expensive looking vase in his attempt to escape.  _

 

_ “Ugh, Lance, control your feline ghost. He’s breaking all my wares!” _

 

_ Lance looked over at Keith with that smug little grin of his. Keith huffed and turned away, but was sent running as Kova pounced his way.  _

 

_ “Honerva, you might want to call Kova off. Keith’s scared,” he chuckled under his breath.  _

 

_ “Keith you are dead,” Honerva rolled her eyes, “he cannot hurt you.”  _

 

_ “Tell that to the cat!” Keith protested.  _

 

“Tell what to the cat?” Lance’s voice broke through his memory, and Keith blinked open his eyes. He was groggy and very confused as to where he was at, but exhaustion still lingered in his body. He raised his head, which was nestled in the crook of Lance’s neck, to look the other in the eye. 

 

“Hhhwaa?” Keith asked, sniffing a bit. He felt Lance’s chest vibrate as he laughed. 

 

“Dude, you really need to stop passing out on me,” Lance said. 

 

A small silence followed. Keith noticed Lance as switched to floating, probably to reserve energy. A part of him wanted to fight with Lance to be let down, but he didn’t have much control over his eyes as they fluttered shut. His head fell back to its place on Lance’s shoulder. 

 

“I thought you said you were gonna leave me if I passed out again?” Keith asked quietly. He didn’t have much energy to raise his voice above a whisper. 

 

“Believe me, I wanted to,” Lance replied smoothly, “but I feel like you would have taken my head off if I actually did. Not to mention that’s the worst place for you to be taking a late night nap.” 

 

“What do you mean?” 

 

Keith could feel Lance pause for thought. His mouth moved and Keith glanced up to see him biting his lip. 

 

“Do you remember anything from that night I found you?” Lance lowered himself to the ground, choosing to slow things down and walk the dark streets back to the apartment. Keith wrinkled his brow, unsure how to answer. The tension behind the question was obviously palpable, and he wasn’t entirely sure if he wanted to continue this conversation. 

 

Don’t get him wrong, he wanted to know what happened. He’d sometimes remember it in visions as he slept, more often than not from using too much energy and knocking himself out, but they were hazy fragments that Keith could never piece together. There were times he wanted to ask Lance what happened, but a mixture of pride and anxiety kept him from it. Lance already had to tell him too many things to keep him in the loop about this whole death thing. He didn’t want to make himself look too stupid. Besides, he didn’t need to know. That was the past. There was no reason he’d need to know the information. 

 

At least, he didn’t think so, until now. 

 

But thinking on it was way too much energy. Keith felt himself drifting off again. He subconsciously nuzzled his face into the crook of Lance’s neck and sighed. He swore Lance tensed up under him. 

 

“No,” he said, “not a clue… Do I… Do want-?”

 

“Hey, don’t go falling asleep on me now. This is important!” Lance bounced Keith up, trying to get a better hold on him. “Damn, you’re heavy. How do you not fall through the floor when you sleep?” 

 

The adjustment woke Keith up enough to process Lance’s comment. “Well, if I’m so heavy, put me down!” He struggled, pushing against Lance’s face to break free. Lance only held on tighter. 

 

“Oh no! You need to stop using up your energy!” 

After a few minutes of struggle, Keith finally went limp in Lance’s arms. Lance naturally shot him a smug grin to which Keith growled at. Lance resumed his trek in silence. The tension had been broken but Keith could tell Lance still wanted to talk about it. They rounded a corner, and Keith gripped onto Lance’s shirt for purchase. 

 

“What happened then, anyway?” 

 

* * *

  
  


_ I don’t remember much, either. Mostly because I came across the situation late. All I know is that it was well past midnight, and I was wandering around looking for something to do. That’s when I stumbled across you.  _

 

Lance balked at the sight in front of him. He had seen some strange shit in the short time he’d been dead, but this… this took the cake. He almost didn’t want to believe any of it was real. As it stomped passed him, Lance took refuge behind the thick-trunked Birch tree. It stopped, glowing eyes scanning the area, before continuing its path. Lance leaned out to get a better look at it. It was big. Terrifying. But the worst part was it looked like it had something between its clamped jaws. 

 

A person? 

 

Curious, Lance followed at a distance. The creature didn’t seem to notice as it followed the campus street. He didn’t know where it was going, but he didn’t expect it to be a party or anything. 

 

The Thing, as Lance was now calling it, in his head, was a giant, hump-backed creature cloaked in shadow. Its four feet hit the ground with such a force that Lance felt he was going to fall on his face any second. Its teeth were huge, and its eyes… Lance couldn’t look into those eyes for long. A churning in his stomach stopped that instinct quickly. He kept an eye on its mouth where a pair of legs dangled from the side. 

 

_ That thing had you in its mouth, Keith. I didn’t know what to do other than follow it. The scary thing is… it stopped moving outside of that dorm you were at. You woke up then. You started screaming.  _

 

Lance never heard such bone-chilling screams. Agony. Fear. This was the sound of Hell. There was no other word for it. Whatever that Thing  _was_ was putting that poor soul through Hell, and Lance needed to do something. He darted forward, neglecting a plan, and just lunged. The creature may be ten times Lance’s size, but he gave it a shot. He smashed into its back thigh and clawed at it. Somehow it worked, and it dropped the person to the ground. He landed with a splat, arms, legs, and neck in all sorts of directions. 

 

_ Your Deathmarks were glowing. I could see it from the distance I was at. I knew then you weren’t alive. All I could think was that demon was trying to drag you to Hell or something. So I tried to lure it out of there.  _

 

He dodged another swing from its massive tail. Lance could only hope that running and making the loudest commotion he could would help his fellow ghost escape. The creature seemed to take the bait, growling and snapping at him. They hadn’t moved from the area, though, and again Lance hoped against hope the boy would get up, move,  _ something _ so he could run. 

 

It wasn’t long before he heard the sound of coughing. The demon heard it too and turned back to its prey. Lance cursed himself and made a break for its line of sight again. This was crazy! He knew it was, but it was this or watch someone just _die_ _for a second time_. 

 

The boy was up on his feet now, tearing at his hair and scratching down the sides of his face and neck. He was going through a panic attack. His mouth moved as if he were mumbling to himself. 

 

“Get out of here!” Lance shouted at him. 

 

The boy froze and fixed Lance with the blankest stare he had ever seen. His violet eyes were, for lack of a better word, absolutely dead. 

 

_ “I don’t want to die,” you said. I was thrown for a sec ‘cause all I could think was ‘you’re already dead?’ But I suppose I understood what you meant. You looked terrified, Keith. That only… That only seemed to make it mad.  _

 

The creature gave a deep and bone-shattering howl and launched itself at the boy. Lance could only watch as it landed on him and started to tear at him with its teeth. Lance could feel tears fall of his face as he watched in horror. He didn’t know where the cracking, and the squelching, and the gnashing sounds were coming from, be he could only assume it was from the demon’s attacks. The boy’s screams pierced the air about them, making reality itself crack under the intensity. 

 

“I don’t want to go!” 

 

Lance saw an explosion of light from behind the paws of the beast. Blinded, it fell back with a roar. The boy lay on the ground, Deathmarks sparking, hands outstretched. Whatever that light was, came from him. A last-ditch effort. Lance looked down at his own hands. He got an idea. 

 

He put himself between the boy and the beast, glancing back to see if he was okay. He was broken beyond belief, but his hands twitched. That was enough for now. Lance looked back at the monster, holding out his own hands. 

 

“You’re the first one to get the Lance Experience,” he muttered. He didn’t know how this was going to work. Blaytz told him visualization helped. So he tried that. He visualized a powerful feeling. One that would keep both him and his new friend safe. 

 

The smell of salt wafted about them and a warm breeze turned into a strong wind. It was damp. Humid. A gust of wind that surge past Lance, his hair billowing about his face. It swept up the demon, pieces of its body feathering off and scattering about the wind until it was gone. 

 

It was over much sooner than it began. Lance spun on his heel and knelt beside the broken boy. 

 

“It’s okay,” he said, sliding his arms under his limp body, “I’m right here. I won’t let you go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea of Deathmarks is thanks to Bang Bang Beef Keef! I was struggling to find a way to describe how the ghosts look and this was her wonderful idea!


End file.
